They called it the magic door. Crowds would gather outside, peering in. When Harvey pushed his way to the front and squinted at the glass, all he saw was a dim hallway beyond, with some tatty overcoats hanging from hooks.
And then. The reflection of mama crossing the street, shopping bag swinging from her hand. Mama, dead these seven years. He whirled. But the street was empty.
Perhaps, he’d find her again if he went in. Throwing his shoulder against the door, he crashed through. Black and white tiles, and a flock of coats nattering like old ravens.
.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here
Neil MacDonald Author 
This story reminds me of the Narnia series! Magic door indeed.
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Except that in this case, there’s no magic realm beyond the magic door
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Slightly creepy and quite heart-rending.
What we wouldn’t give to see our mothers one more time…
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Thanks so much. Slightly creepy and heart-rending was just what I was aiming for
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I liked the mysterious tone and the portrayal of supernatural tricks that tripped through the mind. An enjoyable piece.
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Thanks so mucj, James
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Wow – I really loved that. Great tension and great ending with so many possibilities.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks so much, Susan
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Interesting.
“We only see what our eyes want to see.”
I would really want to meet my mom again…
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There’s more to seeing than meets the eyeball
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Magical and mysterious.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks so much, Rochelle
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Definitely creepy, especially the coats nattering like old ravens.
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Thanks so much, Liz
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Seeing Mama walking down the street carrying a shopping bag would be such a welcome sight! Nicely done.
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Thanks so much, Linda
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Nice vision while it lasted! I loved “Black and white tiles, and a flock of coats nattering like old ravens.” A poetic revelation.
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Thanks so much, Dora. I’m glad you liked those flourishes
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Old ravens may know so much, sadly they fly away like falling coats. Magic or madness, who can know.
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It’s often difficult to tell the difference
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Intriguing. Magick is where you find it, but not often what you seek.
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and not necessarily lasting
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My parents both died seven years ago. I can understand how he’d want to see his mother again, and it can play tricks upon him
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Thanks, Larry
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The magic door feels like bait to me, drawing in the bereft. Who do all of those tatty coats belong to? Nice setting of suspense and trepidation.
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The tatty coats probably belong to the quite innocent and unsuspecting residents of the house
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Must be magic in letting you see what you wish for and then, once you’ve crashed in, they get you!
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They’re fiendish clever those old coats
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Wow. I love this!
What they are desperate to see can only be seen in reflection…
Beautifully done!
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Perhaps that’s the explanation of tourism–that what we’re desperate to see can only be viewed in retrospect. Thanks so much, Laurie
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Oh I like that
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Oh, this is good. A touch of magic, an air of mystery.
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Thanks so much, Keith
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I like this, Neil. I daresay those “coats” will put the jacket onto him just fine. Kinda the effect I was hoping to capture with mine and failed miserably.
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strait on perhaps. Thanks so much
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I’m guessing he’s in for a disappointment.
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He may not have seen what he thought he saw
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sometimes one is allowed to believe what he wanted to believe.
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it’s a common tendency
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Reading these comments shows what an excellent story this is, sparking people’s imaginations in so many ways. My take on it was to wonder what would happen to the magic memories now he’s crashed through the door. Trying to seize what you love by violence is seldom a good idea!
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You’re right. Magic rarely survives smash and grab
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I really liked the drama of your story, reminded me in passing of the wardrobe leading to Narnia. Quite magical.
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Except that once you’d got through the tatty old coats in the wardrobe, you got to a magical land. Here you just get to tatty old coats
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Excellent story! I really like the imagery of the last line.
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Thanks so much
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I went a similar direction with my own mother in mind. Excellent story, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Brenda. I wonder what it was that made us both think of mothers
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I love this story Neil. I hope he finds his mama. I hope you’re well and that all is going well with your book release. I finally got back to writing today after struggling these last few months. Here’s mine if you fancy a read 😊 https://lifesabook420574585.wordpress.com/2020/11/13/once-upon-a-winter/
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Thanks so much, Cathryn. The book release went very well, and thanks so much for featuring my post on your blog
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You’re so welcome 😊
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The wishes some have to be back with someone they love … a parent.
But, reality sets in, and nothing remains. Be Safe …
Isadora 😎
ps … thank you for the new word: nattering/ natter
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My pleasure
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Of course the coats were nattering. What bad manners! Crashing through the door instead of slithering underneath it! 😉
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Standards slip everywhere
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LOL
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Fascinating story. I love the physical descriptions that make you feel really there.
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Thanks so much
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Great story. I liked that last line. Really has a great mood to it.
-David
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Thanks so much, David
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Great creation of a surreal and uneasy atmosphere here, Neil.
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Thanks so much, Michael
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“dead these seven years.” A Christmas Carol was my first thought, too. This is one of those gift and curse scenarios. He can see his deceased mother but can have no interaction with her.
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At least, so far, that’s all he sees
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Nice interpretation Neil, I loved ‘nattering like old ravens’ 🙂
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Thanks so much
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The eyes can play tricks – it’s not the mother, but how did she die? Maybe she’s on his conscience. Great atmosphere.
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Thanks so much, Jilly
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